


be your teenage dream tonight

by burningthefutures



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst and Fluff, M/M, Model!Luke, femme!luke, i swear it's quick and non-graphic, i'm so sorry calum isn't in this but i swear i love him, photographer!ashton, some violence, somewhat? more fluff than angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burningthefutures/pseuds/burningthefutures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton, a photographer living in NYC, finds himself entranced when he sets his eyes on Luke Hemmings, a famous model, at a party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	be your teenage dream tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [babylukey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylukey/gifts).



> this fic is supposed to be for the lovely prompter and their request of 'femme!luke and protective!ashton'. all i wanna say is that i did my best and think it worked out overall??? it turned out to be way longer than i expected and it was a tough couple of months trying to figure out what the plot was gonna be because i'm naturally paranoid and worry/change my mind about everything. i also apologize for the smut and if it seemed weird because i've...never written it before...however this was a challenge and i'm happy with it - practice makes perfect, right??? more importantly i hope everyone enjoys :)

America had never been so boring.

It promised a new life of wonder, something Ashton knew he wouldn’t get from Australia. Although it was his home country he longed for something more. So he worked and worked, tireless days and nights, for that something.

From the very beginning, he knew photography was his destiny. It was enjoyable at first. When he realized he could capture moments in time, no matter how fast or slow they came, Ashton fell in love. He wanted to take stills of everything around him, making sure they never faded in the distance because it was too beautiful not to. Eventually his family knew the little hobby wasn’t so small anymore. It was something big.

When Ashton graduated, he told his mother he’d work full-time to set up a foundation for himself. As soon as that base was established, he’d start building up his career as a photographer. Of course, Ann was worried but in true fashion, she gave her son a smile and rubbed his back, wishing him all the best.

(If Ashton was honest, really honest with himself, he knew no one had faith in him. Sometimes he wished they could’ve been the same instead of wearing forced grins.)

The next couple of years became a blur. He transformed into the working man, spending time at his job forty hours a week, trying to keep himself sane as he looked at his friends’ lives – the complete opposite. As their days were ending, Ashton’s was just starting.

The time came around – finally – when Ashton bought his first real camera.

It was nice, a beauty in his eyes. He was fascinated and couldn’t stop shooting until sunset came along.

He started online, putting up ads for freelance photography. For a while, it was slow. Really slow. So slow that Ashton started questioning everything around him for months. His soul took a beating and the people who breathed down his neck at the same time weren’t helping. But it wasn’t just a job for him, he felt, taking pictures. It wasn’t that simple of a task. He was educated, yes, enrolled in classes as well that taught him everything he needed to know. The camera was like a third limb, something so familiar and beloved to him.

It was his love.

The success came to him so fast it was insane.

More and more people kept e-mailing him for campaigns, events, and photoshoots – anything and everything. And Ashton answered them all, a grin on his face he couldn’t wipe off. Then he saw them online, in publications, anywhere and everywhere and suddenly he was a _name_. He was something _big_.

In only a few months, he was employed by a huge agency that promised him everything – and lived up to it. Ashton got the news he’d be flying over to the states in a few weeks only days after getting hired.

And yeah, breaking the news to his family and to everyone who doubted him felt good. Really good.

It wasn’t hard to say goodbye to the place he’d spent so many years in. In fact, it was more of a _thank you_ , a thanks for helping him want more than what’s usually given.

When he arrived to America, it was like stepping into a different dimension. Everything was bigger, more than what he imagined. But it was also captivating.

He was sent to New York City, so it made sense Ashton would spent half of his free film in the taxi ride to his new home alone. But the lights, the buildings, the people…he didn’t care. How could he when the world looked so magical?

However, just as quickly as he fell in love, it was just as quickly Ashton got over the so-called magic.

So things got boring.

Ashton was used to the long hours in the studio, thankful for the experience his past jobs gave him in terms of staying awake and energized. Each project he was assigned to was nice for the most part, giving him creative ability when it was necessary. He made acquaintances here and there, people that said their hellos and goodbyes when it was expected. But there was no excitement, no pizzazz that he thought would be there after living in Australia his entire life.

He knows he might be exaggerating. He might even be unreasonable, a complete prick over something that can be fixed with a better attitude.

Ashton knows it’s more than that though. He needs that spark. So far it’s like he’s floating through life, barely existent, but he’s trying.

It’s just: is it too much to ask for more after everything he’s worked for?

*

“Are you okay?”

Ashton doesn’t recognize the voice at first until it’s too late.

“I’m Michael, by the way,” the guy says, fixing his hair probably due to nervousness or whatever. Ashton remembers him from his first day at work. He smiles, hoping that’ll cause the awkwardness between them to die down. “I know we just met, like, a couple of weeks ago but –“

Surprisingly, Ashton doesn’t mind Michael’s nosiness. It is nosy, he’ll admit that, because he doesn’t know Ashton. He didn’t bother in making conversation with him for the past month but he figures that’s okay. It doesn’t matter when a person breaks the ice, just as long as it’s broken.

“It’s cool, dude,” Ashton replies. He walks back from the setup he was fixing, making sure everything was in its place before it was time for the shoot of the day to start. Michael follows him. He works with Ashton indirectly, mostly with the people who come for their photos taken, officials and all that. Ashton doesn’t know the title exactly, but he’s glad it’s a title taken. He can’t imagine dealing with editors and publishers. Michael’s more of a big picture kind of guy for the company whereas Ashton is the complete opposite.

A couple of moments pass where Michael is just standing next to Ashton as he sets up the computer, cameras, and everything else really.

“So…are you?”

And then Ashton remembers the question Michael asked.

Is Ashton okay?

If he’s being completely honest, yeah. He can’t complain at all, with the job he has and the life he lives, things can’t get much better – or worse. But it’s not about what it’s like on the outside, is it?

“Why do you ask?’ is all Ashton says back because he doesn’t have much of an answer to give.

Michael frowns a little, looking at Ashton deep in his eyes. He’s being sincere which Ashton appreciates. It’s been a long time since he’s actually spoken to someone. His friends back home don’t tell him much of anything, haven’t since they graduated school. He grew up too fast within those years and apparently no one bothered in joining. They were nice to talk to, spend time with for a couple of hours. It was bland conversation though and it held interest more than promise.

Before Ashton thinks he’s ruined a friendship that never even got its chance to start, Michael begins to talk.

“Well,” he says, “you haven’t said more than two words to anyone since you started. And no offense, but the look on your face doesn’t really help either. I mean, you say hi and stuff and I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, ‘cause it’s not! But. Wow. I sound like a complete prick right now, don’t I?”

And Ashton can’t help but laugh. He bursts in complete laughter, eyes crinkling and mouth wide open because it’s ridiculous. Michael is the one who’s a prick? How can that even be when Ashton looks like he’s got a stick up his ass half the time he’s working?

He tells Michael this as soon as he can catch his breath. Then he watches Michael giggle a bit at first, eventually coming to terms with his ridiculous spiel and the two of them join in together.

“You’re right. I don’t talk much,” Ashton admits once everything’s quieted down. “But I think it’s because I’m bad at starting conversation? Which is weird, I usually know what to say in weird situations. I guess things happened a little too fast and I couldn’t…keep up?”

Michael nods, making Ashton feel much better.

“And for my face…that’s just my face. I mean. I wish I had a better explanation for that. But.”

And Michael snorts, making Ashton feel a little embarrassed. All he can do is hang his head in shame, Michael’s hands patting his back. It’s nice, having someone comforting him and as much as it’s foreign, Ashton doesn’t hesitate in taking it in. It’s only a couple of minutes before the day officially begins so he guesses their conversation is over once Michael’s name is being called.

 As he’s finishing up the set-up, Ashton feels a tap on his shoulder.

Michael’s still there, beside him, a small smile on his face while his eyes say something else: worry or anticipation. Ashton stops and waits.

“Um,” Michael stutters. He’s scratching his head as he tries to come up with words. “There’s this party get-together thing tonight at one of Vogue’s editor’s place or something, can’t remember who exactly but it’s a pretty big deal, right?”

“Pretty big deal?” Ashton repeats, incredulous. “For Vogue? Sounds about right.” There’s a touch of tease in his words, Ashton smirking at Michael when he scoffs and if he’s being honest, he’s sure his day can’t get much better than this.

“Any _way_ ,” Michael continues. “I wanted to see if you’d wanna go. Could set up connections, mingle and stuff. Should be fun. Oh, and there’s free food, if that’s not enough.”

Ashton just nods, hearing people call Michael once and then twice, making sure Michael’s got his answer, and goes about his day.

There’s a lift in Ashton’s spirits, the brightness of his day increasing, and although it’s weird – he doesn’t mind it. He couldn’t, not when he was just feeling like crap and apparently looking like it too! There’s a blush creeping on his cheeks when he thinks about Michael noticing how distant he was from his coworkers, becoming fully embarrassed for a few moments he realizes it probably wasn’t just one person but the entire group.

He was being a jerk, even though he didn’t mean to be. Ashton usually is friendly and sometimes outgoing so it’s no excuse he wasn’t the same at the place he spends more than ten hours in. It should be like a second home to him – his profession already is, shouldn’t the studio and eventually those who feel the same way? Already knowing the answer to that question, Ashton looks on to the start of a long, yet livelier, day ahead of him and swears he’s going to be different. He’s going to stop being a negative jerk and start being the happy man he knows he can become.

It all starts with a push and when Ashton looks over at Michael who returns the stare, a playful glint in his eyes, he knows it’s possible.

*

“You know, when you said your building wasn’t that far from the studio, I thought you meant like five blocks,” Ashton hears Michael yell from below him, already a whole staircase above him, “and now I have to climb a thousand steps?”

“Okay, you’re going to make me pull out a list which is something I have no hesitance in doing,” Ashton says, eyebrows furrowed, head shaking and Michael’s completely giving him leeway. Once he’s waving his hand at Ashton, signaling him to go ahead, Ashton continues. “One: I said we could’ve met at the party, so you wouldn’t have to walk all this way here. Two: I _never_ said five blocks. How could _not far_ translate into that? It was vague, I’ll give you that, but you were too busy drooling over the models to decide. Three: my door is literally a minute away which will feel like a thousand steps if you don’t _hurry_.”

Michael takes a minute to let everything said to him settle before finally giving an answer. “You really think I was drooling?”

Ashton groans, a giggle following as he starts to walk again. “Come on, Clifford.”

*

It doesn’t take long for Ashton to realize how much of a _big fucking deal_ the party Michael described is. There’s cars everywhere outside the building it’s being hosted at, paparazzi swarming together near the doors, sounding like seagulls as they greet the person walking out. It’s officially dark out, the September winds brisk and surprising Ashton every time. Australia is so warm; New York is quite the opposite.

He’s dressed to the eights, he supposes, a blazer hugging him tight while wearing black jeans and combat boots. Beneath his jacket, Ashton wears a dress shirt he remembers buying for way too much a couple of months back with his first big paycheck. It’s a casual look, and as he’s looking over at the people walking past the security guards to get inside, Ashton also hopes it won’t get him that much attention.

It’s not like Michael didn’t prepare him. But when he asked whether or not Michael would change or not out of his outfit, all he got was a shake of the head, _nah_ , and _you’re gonna need it more than me_. And he supposes it was true, Michael already in a position where he knows everybody and doesn’t need more contacts in his book with the way he’s already in a first-name basis with most of the big shots in the industry. And as Ashton looks at the way he starts saying _hi_ to strangers around them, giving small hugs and casual handshakes, Michael probably knows it’s mutual.

It’s intimidating and Ashton’s amazed.

“Should we head inside now? It’s cold as balls,” Michael shivers, leading the way so Ashton can follow. “There’s only one thing I miss about the Southern hemisphere and that’s the steady weather.” Ashton only responds with a small laugh, remembering that his co-worker’s from the same country as he is. It was a small surprise at first, Michael’s accent coming in and out when they were talking about whatever.

As expected, the party is exactly what Ashton expected. There’s music surrounding him, vibrating beneath him, with guests walking past him holding drinks and laughing. It’s bright and extravagant, people in uniform carrying trays with tiny appetizers, something Ashton’s only seen in movies. Michael leads the way to the second floor of the home, looking back at him to make sure he knows where they’re going. He waves to the stairs a couple of feet away from them.

Despite everything around him seeming like it belongs in a different world, definitely not his, Ashton’s sight stays on the poster hanging from the wall above, like a banner of sorts, showcasing a new project maybe. A slight turn of the head, he sees a face so chiseled it takes him by surprise.

The face, frustratingly familiar because Ashton can’t remember the name of who it belongs to, is beautiful. He rolls his eyes at the thought because, of course, there’s a strong chance of it belonging to a top model. It’s a man, with eyes so blue it sends shivers down Ashtons’ spine just from looking at them for more than a few seconds – and looking at how dark and long his eyelashes are, there’s no doubt the man’s wearing makeup.

Not that there’s anything wrong with it, not unusual for high fashion, but definitely rare in Ashton’s world.

There’s definite contouring based on how sharp the man’s jawline appears to be. Ashton stares a bit harder (as if he wasn’t before) and finds strips of orange and bronze beneath the man’s waterline, realizing that’s the reason why the blues of his eyes stand out so much.

“You’re drooling.”

Ashton jolts from the sudden noise, his full attention back to the party, and finds Michael by his shoulder.

“I am not,” he tries, calming down. “I’m just…appreciating the art.”

“Appreciating the art,” Michael repeats. “Well you can do that upstairs instead of getting in people’s way, right?”

Ashton doesn’t say anything in regards to that and the two go on their way.

But was Ashton really drooling? He doubts it, confident that he’s somewhat aware of how he acts in public and there’s no way he’d let himself look like however Michael saw him. But then those thoughts slowly disappear the seconds he reaches the second floor, a vast space ahead of him with people in expensive suits walking around and chatting among each other, although that’s not what makes Ashton catch his breath.

It’s the fact that the man with the blue eyes is everywhere, decorating the white walls, eyes closed in one photo and open in the other. He’s posed differently, definitely showing his range in terms of knowing the camera and giving a good shot.

“What is this?” Ashton whispers to Michael.

“I know right,” Michael says back, hint of playful annoyance in his voice. “His face is making my eyes sore. It’s everywhere.” And well, Ashton can’t say anything in response mostly because he doesn’t agree at all. “I shouldn’t have said it was just a party. It’s actually the launch of _V_. And what sucks? Luke’s the center of it all.”

Ashton frowns a little. “You know him?”

“Know him?” Michael laughs. Taking in Ashton’s now intrigued look on his face, he adds, “We’ve known each other since we were in primary school.” So there’s the reason why he’s so adamant in breaking down the illusion Luke is doing so great in creating. They’re friends. Of course, with Michael being Michael, that makes sense.

Ashton hums.

“He’s here, I just can’t find the bastard and – oh, there he is!”

Michael walks ahead of Ashton into a crowd of people. Ashton doesn’t know what to do so he stays in his place. There’s laughing and claps of the back. His hands stay in his pockets, his face looking at the floor. He knows if he even takes a glance at the walls, it’s downhill from there.

It may have to do with the lighting of the photos, the way everything is set up, the white background contrasting against Luke’s outfit and makeup, how there’s deep emotion from his eyes all the way to how he rests his mouth – until Ashton’s completely focusing on something other than what camera the photographer probably used. It’s Luke that’s captivating him.

“Ashton?”

One of the reasons why Ashton even became interested in photography was the fact that the camera doesn’t lie. Sure, things may be altered to appear like something else but organically, if all of those elements are stripped away, the image is honest – a still from the moving present.

He decides Luke is even more beautiful in real life than what his photos depict.

There’s a small pause between lifting his head and acknowledging that _holy shit_ , he’s standing right there. Eventually Ashton musters up the courage to form a smile on his face and brings his hand out for Luke to shake, not exactly knowing how to act in a situation like this. Should they even shake hands? Or should it be more casual? What’s even considered casual?

Luke clears the air by taking Ashton’s hand with his own. He’s wearing a smile too, very pretty and making Ashton’s mouth dry, until he remembers that he has to talk back when Luke finishes saying hello. He opens his mouth, mainly awestruck because there’s a model right in front of him – how could he not be intimidated? Unsurprisingly nothing comes out and Michael’s the one who graciously breaks the silence by snorting.

“Told ya,” he tells Luke.

Before Ashton can retaliate, Luke interrupts.

“You’re from Aus?”

“Um,” Ashton says back, voice scratchy. He clears his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. You?”

Luke looks confused but amused at the same time. A small laugh comes out of him. “Yes?”

“Right.”

And then there’s more silence, not awkward, but weird nonetheless. Luke keeps staring at Ashton, deep in his eyes, completely keeping his cool while Ashton’s close to bursting inside. It’s not like Luke is some random stranger on the train – well. He is a stranger. And it was random to meet him here since Ashton didn’t necessarily know what the celebration was actually about. Still. It’s like he knows Luke, all of his secrets and dreams, just by analyzing his photos in the building. What’s even stranger is it’s like Luke knows Ashton or trying to, at least, with the way he’s studying him right now.

“Well,” Michael says finally. “I think I see Feldman over there. I’ll say hi, okay?” He pats Luke on the back before stepping over to Ashton, whispering, “Be cool, dude. Everything’s fine. Just have fun.” Then he’s off, running over to another crowd of people, leaving Luke and Ashton alone with each other.

Luke is still looking at him.

There’s an intense look on his face that doesn’t help Ashton’s heart from failing. He shakily puts on a smile as Luke begins to speak.

“So when did you come here?”

“A month or so ago.”

It’s just casual conversation. It’s all fine, Ashton thinks, if he could stop overthinking every little thing he – or Luke – does. It’s not like Luke is even doing anything to Ashton apart from studying him like he’s going to paint his portrait from memory.

Yeah, he’s definitely thinking too much into it.

“I like your pictures,” Ashton blurts out, hoping he sounds sincere because it’s true. “Everything about them is fantastic. The colors, lighting – you.”

Luke giggles, honest-to-god giggles, at Ashton. He bites his lip, eyes losing their intensity and instead, twinkle. “You think I’m fantastic? I’m so flattered.”

And, oh shit, did Ashton really say that out loud?

He figures he can’t take it back now so he only nods, laughing along with him, making it seem like it was a funny joke and _only_ a joke. It’s just too bad he can feel his face getting redder as each second passes between them. “Yeah,” he says as smooth as he can, bringing back that signature smile, “I do.”

Luke hums, scanning the room. He sighs, definitely disgruntled but he tries not to let Ashton know that. However Ashton’s ready to ask what’s wrong. Before he has the chance, Luke tries, “You wouldn’t mind if we head to the balcony to talk? It’s just,” he stops, still looking at the space around them, suddenly busy as if something important were to happen in the next few minutes, “I don’t wanna stop talking to you. You’re interesting.”

Ashton snorts, surprised by that comment. He’s also taken aback at how he wasn’t affected by it either, growing a little more comfortable towards Luke now that he’s spoken to him one on one. The intimidation is still there but it’s slowly disappearing. “Interesting?”

“I know what I said. You try talking to boring executives and designers all day – no offense to them, but come on. I like clothes, I wear your clothes, and I also spend sixteen hours in different outfits for your ads. Conversations get old really fast.”

Ashton huffs. “That’s amazing.”

“No, what’s amazing is the fact that I actually got to talk about myself for once tonight. All thanks to you.”

“Well,” he responds, “I’m glad I can be of service.”

He takes a third look back before leading Ashton down a hallway no one seems to take notice of, walking past closed doors and ultimately reaching two large glass doors that takes them outside. Ashton checks back every other step, wondering if anyone noticed them.

“Are you avoiding someone?” he asks quietly.

“Everyone, actually.” Luke’s voice sounds completely dead to Ashton’s ears. Walking over to the railing, he rests his arms there, taking a deep breath and exhaling once Ashton’s only a few inches from him. “It’s nothing, it’s just.” Another inhale. “Can I tell you something?”

Ashton doesn’t say anything, just stares at Luke, trying to keep his jaw from falling due to the fact that Luke is completely glowing right now. Maybe it had to do with the horrendous yellow lighting inside the building but Luke is sparkling, his pale skin illuminating beneath the moonlight. His cheekbones, like in the photos, are prominent due to the help of bronzer brushed along the sides of his face.

Luke turns to him, eyebrows furrowed, probably expecting an answer but Ashton knows if he opens his mouth he’ll croak. It gets worse, obviously, because there’s an attack of blue on Ashton. The darkness of his lashes, long and voluminous, bring out the hues almost instantaneously.

He only nods.

“I’m scared,” Luke confesses. “It’s so weird saying that considering everything I’ve done to get here. I mean, I worked my whole teenage life for this moment and all I want to do now is curl up into a ball and sleep.” He bites his lip again, except there’s a different expression on his face now, not like the one before which Ashton can only describe as one of lust (but that causes a heat prickling down shoulders into his fingers so he lets go of that thought immediately).

It’s of worry.

“You get used to it, y’know? People criticizing you and then saying it’s only to help you. Sometimes I think they just do it because it’s fun in some sort of sick way,” he goes on, “but then it’s not the professionals anymore. It’s the public. And everyone tells you to ignore it, it’s all bullshit but sometimes I think…”

He stops, looking down at the ground.

“Sometimes I think it’s true.”

Ashton takes it all in, everything Luke says, and wants to say it’s all wrong, that there’s no possible way Luke is even a bit like what the nasty public say he’s like. He doesn’t know what they say, doesn’t dare want to know, but people will always say stupid shit in order to feel better about themselves because they’d have to just by looking at Luke. How could they not? He’s completely…perfect.

He doesn’t realize he’s said this out loud until Luke snaps his head up and faces him.

“Perfect?” he questions, the twinkle appearing again, and Ashton’s heart soars.

His dimples show and he’s taking a couple of steps toward Ashton, making time freeze in place, and Ashton doesn’t know what’s happening so he’s frozen and feels Luke come closer and closer to him. They’re only an inch or two away from each other when there’s a yell coming from inside.

It’s Michael.

Ashton knows he’s only known him for a couple of hours, and despite everything he’s done for him, he sort of wants to kill him.

“He’s the worst,” Luke says.

“I don’t want to be mean, considering we just met and all, but I have to agree.”

Luke laughs. “Michael told me you work with him. So Mr. Photographer,” he comments, backing up, “do you really think my photos are good? Or are you just saying that to get on my good side?”

“That depends. Do I get a prize if I do?”

It’s meant to be a joke, and only a joke, but Ashton can’t help but put on a smirk while watching Luke take another small step back, his mouth slightly falling open in surprise.

“We’ll see about that,” he teases, eyeing him up and down. “Cheeky, aren’t you?”

Michael calls Luke’s name again and they both hurry back inside. Ashton wants to keep talking to Luke, making him laugh, and finally enjoy a night in this city. He grabs onto his shoulder when they reach Michael, Luke looking back and giving Ashton a warm, fond smile before there’s applause interrupting the moment, breaking it, and Ashton lets go.

There’s a slight frown on his face for a second but he understands why there’s commotion in the first place: it’s all for Luke. So he claps too, giving him a nod to go forward and take it in.

“It’s for you,” he mouths. “Go.”

And suddenly Luke’s being pulled into many directions, people swarming him, saying how much of a good job he did. Ashton leans against the wall, Michael by his side, his arms crossed and face full of satisfaction as Luke blushes and thanks anyone who compliments him. He continues the pose for the next half hour as the designer and model of the night – Feldman, apparently, and Luke – give a speech to a crowd of a hundred, saying their thanks and giving their gratitude towards the industry and anyone who supported them.

The yellow lights disappear by then, graciously replaced with other lights that don’t wash Luke out. He looks exactly how he looked beneath the night sky, radiant and beautiful. He’s shining, everyone’s attention on him and rightfully deserved, Ashton thinks. Their words eventually come to a close and Feldman’s leading him toward what looks like a group of reporters. Luke follows, his head moving left and right like he’s trying to find something – or someone. Eventually he lands on Ashton and time freezes as they look at each other, both smiling, until Michael rudely interrupts – again.

Ashton wants to yell at him.

“We’ll see you later, dude!” he tries to yell over the loud chatter surrounding them. Luke’s smile is wiped off his face, back to reality, and nods.

Michael grabs Ashton once there’s enough room to move freely, the commotion around them dying down. He shows him around the house, stopping by small circles of people and creating small talk, involving Ashton in the conversation.

An hour or two passes, it seems, before Ashton’s forearm aches from shaking so many hands. He feels his cheeks getting sore from grinning too widely at the lame jokes he’s heard over and over. But the drinks he’s had numb the pain and in the end, he decides it’s been a successful night overall with Michael telling him he’s done a good job.

People begin to leave and Ashton looks at his watch, grimacing at how late it is and how early he has to be up the next morning. But Michael is nowhere to be found when he realizes this until there’s cheering and screaming coming from the next room, recognizing his voice in an instant, and Ashton rolls his eyes.

He begins heading out the door when someone shouts his name. Ashton spins around.

He honestly doesn’t know how he even forgot about him, deciding to blame it on the alcohol, because Luke is only a couple feet from him, taking Ashton’s breath away one step at a time. If he thought he was dressed to the nine’s before, the scale is broken now.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

And then they’re laughing, bearing teeth and all, not caring if they look ridiculous to anyone that passes by them.

“You were great tonight, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Luke says cutely, giving Ashton a wink, “I try my best.”

“And you succeed,” Ashton gives. Then, “Did I say that out loud again? Shit.”

“Out loud? I wonder what you really think of me then.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” is all Ashton says in response.

Luke’s playful smile fades, Ashton worried that he’s ruined everything between them until Luke’s biting his lip again but this time it’s not nervousness he’s wearing but a look that makes Ashton weak in the knees, a look he knows the name of but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t dare try to give Luke the tiniest inclination that he’s done for.

“You wanna get out of here, Ashton?” he asks him, his voice deep and husky, something Ashton is so grateful for.

He opens his mouth but it’s too late to respond because Luke’s grabbing his hand and pulls him toward the door. Cold air hits them, their hair in their faces as the wind breezes past them, but before Ashton can feel that, his eyes are practically blinded by the flashes of cameras in front of them. He groans, the memory of paparazzi from the beginning of the night coming back to him, and he hears Luke say, “I know,” but he stills pulls him out towards the curb of the street.

He can’t see anything, annoyed to the max with everything breathing down his neck – literally – and almost losing Luke’s hand in the process. There’s shouting in his ear, questions of _are you his boyfriend_ and _what’s your name_ , but it’s nothing compared to what they say to Luke.

He doesn’t know about Luke but Ashton tries not to let it get to him.

They’re so close to the car, literally steps away from the door, when there’s a gross and nasty laugh coming from behind them. It seemed harmless until the words came out of the person’s mouth, calling Luke names that aren’t insults at all, but it’s the way they’re said with strong disgust and distaste that has Ashton stop in his tracks.

Luke shouts, “Don’t listen to them,” his eyes pleading for Ashton to not do anything. Ashton looks back and finds Luke completely unbothered, his expression solid and serious, thoughts probably set on getting into the car and leaving this ugly space they’re trapped in. But it’s because Luke’s used to it that has Ashton want to spin around and teach the guy a lesson or two, verbal or not.

So he does.

It’s quick, his words biting back at the man peering in, telling him to fuck off and all that. Ashton’s pissed off and way too angry, the alcohol in him telling him to go ahead, look into the guys’ face and take the first punch. He restricts himself at first, convinced that it’s a bad idea and Luke’s there too, still holding onto Ashton’s hand and squeezing it.

But the man won’t stop talking. The cameras keep recording. The shutters never quiet down.

He does it, fast and forceful, making a statement with his fist slamming into the guy’s chin. Everyone watches the guy fall over and in a snap, they begin cheering. Some clap. Some curse the guy out. Ashton’s stuck in place, his hand throbbing, and it’s Luke that drag him into the car and shut the door so fast it gives him whiplash. Light from the flashes come through the tinted windows. Luke faces the opposite way, giving Ashton full sight of him, and in that moment, Ashton distinguishes something unfamiliar: emptiness.

It’s like Luke’s soul left his body and it’s only Ashton in the car. The driver pulls away with the tires screeching, speeding past green lights. Ashton stays quiet, frozen, still. He doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath when Luke shifts slightly, turning his head to look at Ashton.

Ashton can see from the corner of his eyes Luke’s legs moving toward Ashton, his body leaning his way, his hand slowly making its way to his thigh. Once it’s there, he’s the one who stays still and it’s Ashton’s turn to do something.

He opens his mouth slightly, ready to say anything that’ll make the situation better, but nothing comes out.

“Ashton,” Luke says, exasperated, “look at me.”

But he can’t just look at Luke, not after embarrassing him and making an idiot out of himself in public. He can’t help but stare at his hand, red and sore, and think of how he’s ruined everything between them. It’s all ruined because he knew Luke could’ve handled it perfectly, in fact, wasn’t that the first thing he talked about with him?

It’s just that they wouldn’t stop. And he wasn’t trying to make a statement, trying to make himself into some sort of legend or icon people won’t be able to stop talking about for weeks. He was genuinely annoyed and wanted it all to stop. He wanted everything to stop because the guy found solace in trying to break Luke, belittling him, so he did what the only thing that would shut him up.

It’s not enough of an excuse and if Luke hates him, doesn’t ever want to talk or look at him again, Ashton understands.

“Luke,” he starts. “I don’t know what to say–“

“Look at me.”

And it’s the second time Luke’s said those words so Ashton does what he’s asked and trails his eyes over to Lukes’. He’s looking back at him too, nervousness on his face but Ashton can’t figure out why, causing his guilt to increase. “Luke, I’m so–“

Their first kiss happens within a blink of an eye, Luke like a magnet and attaching himself to Ashton, his hands bringing his head forward. He’s got his fingers grasped onto his hair, locked and secure, his mouth crashing into Ashtons’ with an urgency that Ashton can completely relate to. It’s sloppy at first, not pretty at all, like if he didn’t touch him right then and there, he’d die.

Ashton brings his hand to Luke’s back, pressing him against his stomach and groans a little at Luke biting his bottom lip, opening his eyes and finding Luke staring back with a hunger in his eyes that makes his dick twitch. Beneath that hunger, though, is a hint of playfulness like Luke’s challenging him to something.

Ashton takes too long to think of a move because Luke pushes him towards the door, Ashton’s head hitting the window hard and he winces, but Luke’s there to make things better by rubbing the sore spot with his fingers and simultaneously punishing Ashton by making the bulge in his pants hurt as his mouth makes it way towards his neck, sucking at the skin softly at first. Ashton lets the deep breath he didn’t know he was holding go but then hisses when Luke decides to take a couple of nips.

“Fuck,” he gasps softly, hearing Luke softly laugh below him.

The car comes to a stop and Ashton’s back to normal for a few seconds when he realizes they were in the car the entire time. Luke must notice because his laughing grows harder, taking ahold of Ashton’s hand and opening the door where he tells him to hurry. He shouts a thank you to his driver, not at all ashamed at what they were just doing a few feet from him, while Ashton’s head is still stuck in the clouds.

They run up the stairs to Luke’s apartment, rushing through the doors and running up to the third floor, where Luke’s bed is hopefully, giggling and completely out of their minds, bumping into walls and railings. Luke shushes Ashton, whispering him to shut up which doesn’t help and they continue smiling so hard they’re scared their mouths will be stuck in that position for the rest of their lives.

Once Ashton finishes taking the final step, Luke’s there unbuttoning his blazer within seconds and Ashton’s doing the same to the coat Luke has on. Pushing Luke into the door he thinks is his, Ashton grins when Luke brings his hand out to turn the knob.

He pushes him into the room, a jolt of adrenaline bursting through his bloodstream, letting go of their sleeves and throwing them across the room. Their mouths meet again and this time, it’s more desperate than before except not as messy. They’re familiar with each other now, Luke unafraid of his tongue meeting Ashtons’, Ashton bringing his hands to Luke’s face to take more of him in.

“Bedroom,” Ashton begs. “Please.”

Luke giggles at that, the sound filling Ashton’s ears. “How much do you want me?” Luke whispers after, his breath tickling Ashton.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ashton whines. “Not right now.”

“What do you want to do with me?”

But Ashton doesn’t want to play this game Luke is in total control of, loving the way Ashton struggles beneath him. It’s not fair, with the way he kept staring at him the whole time at the party, knowing exactly what he was doing, the effect he had on him. He stares into those baby blues, black eyeliner and mascara smudged, looking completely wrecked and even more desirable than before.

They kiss again but this time Ashton’s leading and when Luke pulls back, watching Ashton come forward for more and failing a switch is automatically flipped within Ashton and Luke is pushed back into the wall, gasping at the slight pain from his back.

“That’ll teach you to not be a tease,” Ashton growls and it’s Luke’s turn to squirm. “Kiss me. For real this time.”

Luke listens but nonetheless, Ashton grabs his chin and brings his mouth to his, giving pecks again and again, randomly adding deep kisses that causes Luke to whine for more.

“Bed,” Luke cries out once Ashton’s finished, “now.”

Ashton lets go and Luke gets rid of his clothes, climbing out of his pants and tossing his shirt down the hallway, helping Ashton do the same, mouth against his and they move together towards his bedroom. When they enter, Ashton doesn’t know what’s going to happen next so when Luke pushes him on the bed, crawling on him and sitting his ass firmly on his thighs, it takes him by surprise. He shudders at the touch, looking up at Luke looking down at him, his tongue running across his lips – swollen now but so beautifully plump it hurts.

“I want to thank you,” Luke says after a moment. “For defending me out there.”

Ashton nods, unable to work his voice.

“For thinking I’m fantastic,” he adds on, amused. “For supporting me. Being nice to me.” He lowers himself down to Ashton’s face, hovering above him, whispering, “Michael told me you were staring at the pictures. Said you were _practically drooling_.”

Ashton blushes, embarrassed now.

“I thought that was cute. Thought you were cute.” And then he’s slinking down Ashton’s body, stopping every now and again to pay attention to his shoulders or biceps, stomach or hips, finally reaching the button of Ashton’s pants and looks up.

There’s something about Luke, with the way he looks wrecked – hair ruffled and a mess, makeup ruined, lips pink and puffy – that makes Ashton buck his hips up, having Luke gasp in return, but getting the message as his fingers latch onto the pants and take them down Ashton’s legs.

“Excited, are we?” Ashton teases at first but then Luke is making him regret it by sinking his teeth in his thighs, grabbing them hard and spreading them wide open. Ashton really can’t take it anymore, his own hand taking ahold of his dick beneath his boxers and sighing shakily at the touch.

“Wait, no,” Luke tells him then, pushing it away, “don’t.”

Ashton wants to ask what he’s doing, why he wants to play games, before the sensation of having his dick touched again hits him hard, watching Luke squirm himself as Ashton keeps moaning, his eyes shut as Luke’s hand works wonders. He pumps, slow then fast, increasing the speed when the moment’s right, and Ashton lets him – gone, so gone. But what he does do, almost impulsively is tell Luke how good he is to him, that he’s perfect, even from just touching him. Once that happens though, Luke pauses. He thinks he’s done something horrible, made things weird and the apology is on the tip of his tongue when Luke takes him in his mouth, just the tip of his dick, sloppy kisses everywhere and making noises that Ashton is so grateful in having the privilege in hearing.

He thanks Luke, spewing compliment after compliment in harsh whispers.

“No,” Luke breathes in, blue eyes looking into his hazel ones, “thank you.”

Then Ashton watches Luke take him in entirely, his hand curled around the base of his dick, his head bobbing up and down, vibrations from his mouth and his moans leaving Ashton speechless. He almost misses it but he sees Luke reach down his body and stops for a second, taking in his own touch, before going back to Ashton.

Ashton doesn’t think it’s fair.

“Come up,” he tells Luke, and Luke doesn’t listen, his mouth still on his dick, so he repeats again, “Luke, come here,” with shaky breaths in between. When he opens his eyes Ashton finds Luke on top of him again, his head turning back to his groin, face full of worry when he looks down at him.

“Why’d you make me stop?”

“Because,” Ashton says, raising himself up so he’s level with Luke, grabbing onto his neck and feeling his pulse quicken, “I want to make you feel good too.”

“Do you now,” Luke smiles, leaning into his face and they’re back to the beginning, kissing each other except there’s no layers between them, just their sweaty bodies on top of each other, and it’s not a mystery where they’re headed anymore. Ashton mumbles a _yeah_ , grabbing Luke’s waist and turns him around so he’s on top.

Luke squeals, swatting Ashton’s hand from his hips, saying something about being ticklish. And it’s so amazing how those squeals turn into sighs and moans, like music, when Ashton grinds against Luke.

“Take them off,” Luke pants, hands fumbling with his own boxers, wiggling to get them out of the way. Ashton does what he’s told and the air turns thick around them. Ashton goes for Luke and Luke for Ashton, their other hand cradling the others’ face, the both of them jerking each other off together with no hesitation. It’s weird, how one second Luke’s planting kisses along Ashton’s jaw and then laughing for whatever reason, looking like he’s in a daze but Ashton doesn’t care because it’s _beautiful_.

When that thought passes, though, he feels himself getting close and Luke knows it, his face turning hard as he goes faster, his face growing intense when Ashton tells him finally that he’s coming. But the look breaks when it’s Luke’s turn to become weak under Ashton’s spell, the whispers by his ear eventually causing him to collapse, Ashton soon following and together, they scream each other’s name out loud.

“Oh, my God,” is all Luke says, out of breath, after everything dies down, grabbing the tissues on his bedside table and wiping Ashton down. Ashton’s quick to take Luke’s hand and the tissue from him, Luke snapping his head up to look at Ashton, confused, but the confusion’s wiped off his face when they share a long kiss, tongues brushing against each other. They part, Ashton reaching over for another tissue, mimicking what Luke did and when they’re both clean, they sink into the mattress.

Ashton feels Luke’s arm over his stomach, Luke burying his face into his shoulder, Luke’s giggling never getting old and filling the room making his heart swell.

“So,” Luke says softly.

“So,” Ashton replies. He brings Luke closer, his nose in his hair. “Do you think we’ll be able to keep this up when I’m in jail for punching that guy?”

Luke snorts. “You’re not going to jail. I think.”

“You _think_.”

“He was being an asshole. End of story. He had it coming anyway.”

“Okay then. How about when I’m sent back to Australia for ruining my work’s reputation by punching a pap in the face?”

“Repeat what you just said and answer your own question, Ash.”

When Ashton doesn’t respond, because he really doesn’t know what’s going to happen, Luke is there to comfort him.

“Nothing’s going to happen. If they brought you all the way here from all the way over there, they’d be stupid to send you back especially for defending _me_ of all people,” Luke jokes, his snobby voice taking over. “No, but,” he continues, going back to normal, “if anything this’ll attract more attention and buzz for you guys.”

“How weird,” Ashton comments.

“That’s the media for you,” Luke responds. He’s yawning, rubbing his eyes, surprising Ashton with a string of curse words coming out of him suddenly. Ashton begins to ask him what’s wrong when he sees Luke turn and open his drawer, before taking out a wet wipe it seems, and begins rubbing his face with it.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” he asks Ashton once he’s finished taking what looks like to be his makeup off. “I’m so weird,” he says but there’s no shame in it, just amusement as he tosses the dirty wipe to the trash bin across the room. He goes back to Ashton, his mouth on his shoulder, clearing his throat.

“You don’t have a problem with it, right?”

There’s no shame in those words either but there’s definite edge, like Luke’s putting Ashton to a test to find out if he’s actually an asshole or something close to it. Ashton’s expression doesn’t change from the sleepy one he wore before Luke first spoke, just stays relaxed with his fingers combing through Luke’s hair.

“Of course not,” he says because he doesn’t. If anything, he’s amazed by it, the makeup and colors enhancing Luke’s beauty – as if that was possible because Luke still looks perfect with a bare face. There’s an appreciation now that Ashton never expected but he tells Luke, honestly and sincerely, that he doesn’t care. It shouldn’t matter to him if it’s not his body.

And hey, maybe he’ll want to find something that’ll make his hazel eyes stand out.

“I think purple would help,” Luke says lightly, yawning again, “but we’ll continue this conversation in the morning, yeah?” And then he’s sleeping, stomach rising and falling, tiny noises coming from his mouth telling Ashton that he’s done for the night, and for Ashton to do the same.

But it’s the fact that Luke is by his side, looking angelic as he dreams, that has Ashton think everything that’s happened is a dream in itself. He thinks back to this morning, waking up and feeling out of place, going to work and thinking nothing will happen like it usually does. Then Michael came along, ripping those expectations to shreds. Next, Ashton was in a crowd he’d never thought he’d be around, entranced by everything around him until he found Luke and figured the world really does hold incredible surprises.

All he had to do was take a chance and believe the best would happen because when he does, something _will_ show for it. When he closes his eyes and feels Luke snuggle closer into his neck, Luke’s hand making its way over to Ashton’s and intertwining their fingers together, he supposes it was all worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> omg u made it to the end THANKS A LOT i hope u enjoyed it! this literally is the longest thing i've ever written but it was a lot of fun so :) again, i apologize for the smut if it seemed off lol
> 
> hmu on [tumblr](http://www.shawnlukes.tumblr.com) if u want!


End file.
